Christmas killed me. Not the holiday so much, but the food! I've eaten so much I'm going to have to starve myself for the month of January to lose the weight I've gained.
This year, I cooked a ten-pound, boneless rib-eye roast for the family. I was met with skeptical eyes and comments as I prepared the roast for the oven. I made up my own rub, and yes, it was unusual. “Trust me,” I said. “I know what I'm doing.” Now, I've never seen or heard of a rub like this, but if you want to try something different and really special, give this a shot.
Cliff's Roast Dry Rub
1 Tbsp. brown sugar
1 Tbsp. cumin
1 Tbsp. coriander
1 Tbsp. paprika
½ Tbsp. rosemary
½ Tbsp. oregano
½ Tbsp. turmeric
½ Tbsp. garlic powder
½ Tbsp. onion powder
½ Tbsp. curry powder
½ Tbsp. salt
½ Tbsp. pepper
1 Tsp. ground cloves
1 Tsp. cinnamon
Mix all together and rub deeply into meat. Heat oven to 500° and put roast in for 15 minutes. Turn temperature down to 325° and roast until meat temperature reaches 125° (about two hours). Let rest for 15 minutes and enjoy.
Yeah, I know it's a little weird, and clearly I got carried away, but I've never had so many compliments on the meat. Don't be afraid to play with the ingredients; there are no rules. Adjust to your taste and go for it. I made two huge Yorkshire puddings to go with it, and I've been eating the leftovers for three days and I still haven't had enough.
That's the problem with Christmas, there's just so much good food around and I have very little self-control, and the only portion size I will accept is HUGE. The good news is that I don't bake much anymore, so I didn't have to deal with all the baked goodies that haunted me in the past.
Why is it that we only drink eggnog at Christmas? I love eggnog, and when I was younger I could drink gallons of it. Now I have one glass, and as much as I enjoy the first few sips, it's a struggle for me to finish the rest. I know it's not true, but I'm sure I can feel my belt straining with every sip.
In any event, I survived Christmas … but now I have to deal with New Year's Eve. We don't go out anymore—too many amateur drunken drivers around to take the risk. Besides, I don't care anymore about the damn ball in Times Square, and without Dick Clark, it's just not right. At least it's not right for me anymore.
And so, tomorrow night I will open a bottle of Woodford Reserve bourbon I got for Christmas, make a few snacks, watch a movie, and probably be in bed by ten o'clock or so. If you go out, good luck, be safe, and hoist one for me at 12:01 a.m. See you all next year.